


Perfect Thing

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (but so is Erica), (lots of it), Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Derek is a Christmas Baby, Derek is a nerd about anything supernatural, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Meeting the Family, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stiles loves Christmas, again background scallison, furry jokes bc i couldn't help myself, they're in their honeymoon phase so there's a lot of kissing and smiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Stiles understands that the soulmate words can influence a person - hell, they influenced him - but that doesn't explain why every single one of Derek's family members or any of his friends think that Stiles is a furry.
Or, where Stiles and Derek get to know each other (and everyone else) after meeting each other, in a series of domestic, semi-related events. 
Sequel to Covered in Fur and (Your) Words.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catelavie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catelavie/gifts).



> I..... don't know what to say to this? I wanted to go fluffy, which it has, mind you, but... 
> 
> I blame [Acharya](http://achryathesecond.tumblr.com/)? as usual? she was my third party on whether or not Derek should be a 'were, and when I mentioned a thing about Stiles liking that Big Bad Wolf suit a little too much, she didn't discourage me, which totally means that I got inspired to take it farther than... what everyone was probably expecting.
> 
> Anyway, so here is the promised sequel. It can probably make sense as a "aftermath of meeting my soul mate: growing together and meeting the family edition" type of au, but if you wanna check out [the original](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8441170), it'd probably give this a bit more meat. 
> 
> Thank you catelavie, for your comments, this was born. Really means a lot.
> 
> I listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPUJIbXN0WY) again, as well as [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IB_tcNf54s).

                Stiles has always been a man of anniversaries. He didn’t always love them, but he loved what they represented. He’s always loved cherishing the time he had had with his mother when she was alive, he’s always loved celebrating the birthdays of his loved ones, and he loved helping put together things for the anniversaries that didn’t affect him directly when the people celebrating needed his help.

 

                Now knowing Derek, things are no different. He’s already been over to help put up his Christmas decorations (mostly because Derek doesn’t seem to see the importance of the little, extra pieces instead of just the tree and the lights), sharing some of his own – a weird mess of half of his mother’s stash (the other half with his dad), bits of Melissa’s, gifts from Scott and Allison, and things he’s picked out himself. As he picked the perfect places to put up Derek’s _Count Down to Christmas!_ calendar and the officers of Stiles’ knitted snowarmy he could afford to live without this year, he also kept track of the places he could put up streamers and balloons and everything else.

 

                He knows Derek doesn’t do big, he really does, but he knows that Derek _deserves_ big. He deserves a huge surprise with cake and gifts and birthday sex and someplace happy and _for him_ to come home to. He also deserves to be comfortable, especially in his own house, so Stiles has worked this out, down to the _t_. He’s been planning this since that day in November when he noticed the way Derek was watching him, amused, smiling into his coffee as Stiles flailed around and described some of his past costumes.

 

                He literally went home that night and sat down to plan.

 

                Over the course of the month, as he met some of Derek’s friends, one sister, Cora, and heard about a couple others, he made changes to the plan to work everything through, but that came with everything. He’s only really known Derek for a little over six weeks, but he’s been trying hard to take in everything, and he’s really been loving what he’s seeing.

 

                But now’s not the time to get distracted by being gushy over Derek. He could do that later. Now, he had to get Derek’s place set up to come back to after dinner.

 

                Earlier in the month, Stiles had shared his plan with Derek (well, part of it – not the surprise, of course), who accepted his suggestion to celebrate early with friends, so that he could spend time on the actual day with his family. The idea was for Cora to pick him up after work and drive him to the restaurant, where the rest of the group would be. When Stiles had then brought it up with Cora, letting her in on the second part of the plan, she had agreed to help – though only barely. She let him borrow her key to Derek’s place and had walked around the store with him when he picked out different supplies, telling him which ones she assumed Derek would find “lame and cheesy”, declaring the rest simply “alright, I guess”. Otherwise, he was on his own with putting them all up and getting things perfect in anticipation of the guest of honor.

 

                The rest of the group – only two of which Stiles had officially met – consisted of Derek’s self-proclaimed best friend, Erica, who was loud and funny, his _actual_ best friend, Boyd, her soulmate, who was quiet but had a dark, dry sense of humor, and Isaac, who Stiles was going to meet at dinner, but from what he heard was sarcastic and mouthy. Apparently, they were either going to get along great, or Erica was going to eat her left heel.

 

                (At which, while he didn’t want to disappoint, Stiles kind of wanted to see that happen.)

 

                They, amusingly, declared themselves part of Derek’s “pack”, who, red in the ears (Stiles thought it was adorable), immediately changed the topic before they could explain what that even meant, or Stiles could ask. When Stiles asked how they all met (seeing as how they were all around Stiles’ age, a good almost six years younger than Derek himself), Derek was suspiciously quiet (which – he was never _talkative_ , but instead of just nodding along, he stared down at his lap, seeming embarrassed) as Erica went on about how she and Derek met through a convention focused on the super and paranormal. Derek met Boyd through her, because once she finally met him, she brought him around to Derek almost as soon as it happened, and they got along swimmingly, much to Erica’s pleasure.

 

                They were quiet about Isaac, that conversation a lot more muted, so unlike the others that Erica had led; fast-paced and with an energy Stiles rarely got to see from _other_ people. All he really knew is that Derek had met Isaac through Erica and Boyd and that he liked to hang out a lot, as if he had a lot of spare time.

 

                So, the plan was that after dinner, they’d go their own separate ways, but Stiles would come back to Derek’s with him and surprise him with a party for just the two of them. From there, they could do whatever Derek was feeling up to.

 

                He was just finishing up the smaller details, finishing touches, when his first alarm went off. He set two, just in case, the first one to let him know that he had about twenty minutes left, the second one telling him that he needed to leave if he was to get there on time. Once he was finished, he stepped back, out of breath, surveying the room around him, and smiled to himself.

 

                God, he hoped Derek would like it.

 

* * *

 

 

                It turns out Derek _loves_ it. Dinner goes splendidly, everyone has a good time, and Derek seemed to wholeheartedly enjoy himself, which is the main goal of the evening. He does this thing that he’s started to do when he’s really happy and he wants to show it, where he slides his fingers over Stiles’ arm, over his _words_ , the pads of his fingers first, then the flats of them, then the backs, and over again. Just the feeling, soft and comforting and sensual all at once is enough to have Stiles grinning all night long.

 

                When they get back to Derek’s, Stiles kind of wants to be cliché, wants to say that he’s almost forgot about what they’re about to open the door to, but he hasn’t. Throughout the whole night he’s been thinking about it, wondering just what Derek’s reaction is going to be, what look will be on his face, what will be the first thing he says.

 

                The second he slips on the light as he steps inside, Stiles turns to watch him, waiting to see what his reaction is going to be. He doesn’t notice immediately, and it makes Stiles almost want to laugh, albeit a bit nervously, at how long it takes Derek, but then he _sees_ it. He sees it all. He sees it and he freezes, but his eyebrows go up, and his mouth goes lax.

 

                “Surprise?” Stiles offers from his side and Derek turns, slowly, eyes still tracing over everything new around the room as he does. He stares at Stiles for a moment, two, and then he moves suddenly, _surges_ forward, and backs Stiles into the wall, kissing him silly.

 

                The word _god_ is breathed against Stiles’ lips and then Stiles can’t help it, he does laugh then, nervous and everything, but he curls his fingers into Derek’s nice jacket, pulling him closer. Derek pulls back to tilt Stiles’ chin up with his nose so he can nip at the underside of his jaw, mumbles breathlessly, “Nobody’s ever…” He trails off, apparently more concerned with making Stiles’ knees weak with his mouth.

 

                “I _know_ ,” Stiles replies, and Derek’s hands jerk, moving downwards. They slide, pushing, pressing into him as they go, down to his hips. Fingers spread, his hands move around to the back, squeezing, which elicits a gasp, and then to the highs of Stiles’ thighs before they heft him up. He splutters, trying to finish, “But you – you _deserve_ –” but the more he tries to say, the faster Derek moves, curling Stiles’ legs around his waist before walking them down to the bedroom. He doesn’t even bother to kick the door shut behind them before tossing Stiles onto the bed, an almost feral grin splitting his face, and ducking down to work on getting off their clothes.

 

                Later, when Derek has Stiles’ arm raised to lay on the pillow beside his head so he can alternate between kissing him and then up and down his words, Stiles swirling his fingernails around Derek’s own, tracing each letter, he brings up the decorations again.

 

                “I can take them down tomorrow for you.” He doesn’t have to turn his head to face Derek, already looking in his direction, but Derek has to tilt his up to look at him, having been focusing on the mole that sits in the middle of Stiles’ word, _the_.

 

                Derek’s eyes are wide, however, and he shakes his head. “Don’t.” At Stiles’ raised eyebrows, Derek keeps staring at him, not breaking eye contact, as he presses his mouth against Stiles’ arm again, message clear as day, “I like them.”

 

                Derek keeps them up until the 26th.

 

* * *

 

 

                Even though Stiles is one of those people that talks through a lot of movies or shows, explaining this, arguing about that, whatever else, Derek’s found a way to somehow make him quiet. It started one night, when he stayed over some time ago, and Stiles was just so wiped that as they watched whatever was playing, he slipped closer without thinking, right into the space between Derek’s arm and his side. Throughout the time between watching TV and falling asleep, he barely spoke first, instead focusing between what was being played in front of him, and Derek’s warm body he could snuggle against.

 

                It could have been anything from the fact that that was the same pose he’d move into when he used to watch TV with his mom and they’d talk over the volume together, to that he just didn’t feel the need to even say anything when he was so close to Derek like that, to the fact that with arms curled around him and a cheek tilted against the top of his head, his brain had less words and more white noise in it. It could have been anything, but it worked.

 

                When he did talk, sitting on the other end of the couch, or with his feet propped up in Derek’s lap, and he did ramble on, sometimes even over the dialogue (so often that Derek just always kept subtitles on), he knew Derek didn’t mind too much. He listened, replied, though not usually with too much enthusiasm (but sometimes with a spark that Stiles wasn’t expecting – so passionate about his thoughts that they had to pause to discuss it all; those moments were some of Stiles’ favorites when they watched together), but he never told Stiles to shut up or ignored him, so Stiles never felt too guilty about occasionally straying from their cuddly position.

 

                Today, however, he’s enjoying the warmth of it, added by the blanket they have pulled up to their shoulders. Playing on the TV is an episode of _How I Met Your Mother_ , just because they wanted something simple, kind of funny – though recently, it’s been more on feelings and nostalgia than anything else, seeing as it’s the eighth and near final season – to sit back and relax to. It’s nothing that really causes a lot of in-depth thought, seeing as how it’s either straightforward with what the show wants the viewers to know, or something about Ted’s unshakable feelings for Robin, a thing that neither of them really care about. Both Stiles and Derek can agree that the true best part of the show happens to be Marshall and Lily.

 

                Speaking of those two, there’s a scene where they’re sorting what they’re keeping and what they’re not, and out of one of the boxes comes a blonde wig, and a gorilla suit. That, of course, leads to a brief flashback that has Marshall and Lily using them, in the bedroom (because, really, where else would _those two_ use them?), respectively. The scene goes on to continue with their sorting, but Stiles is left with a thought in his head, probably different from what the show intended.

 

                “You know…” he starts slowly, and Derek cranes his head to look at him, eyebrows raising when he feels Stiles’ hand drop to his thigh. It moves, finger sliding along the seam of Derek’s pants on the inside of his thigh, right over his soulmate words. “I’ve got a couple of wigs in my sewing room.”

 

                Though he takes in a deep breath as if he’s exasperated, Derek stills throws the blanket off of them unceremoniously and goes to hunt for the remotes to turn everything off. As Stiles stands, he hears Derek mutter something under his breath that sounds very similar to the words, _knew you were a furry_.

 

                Whatever. Fuck Derek. Like, _fuck_ Derek – because that was what he was going to do as soon as he could find that old costume. He doesn’t say anything back, even if he’s pretty sure Derek knows that Stiles heard him, because he’s not such an asshole as to point out how Derek automatically assumed he’d, himself, be the one to wear the wig.

 

                Not that said good grace is probably going to last, but it’s saying something that Stiles can wait that out until he can get Derek into that old Little Red Riding Hood outfit, right?

 

* * *

 

 

                “Kinda wanna leave some hickeys here,” Stiles declares from his position of laying on his stomach between Derek’s legs. The pads of his fingers drift softly over the black words on his right thigh, back and forth, moving up just a little _up_ each time they hit the end of the word _werewolf?_. “But,” he pauses to change the course of his fingers so they circle around the words instead. “I wouldn’t want to mar such a glorious quote.”

 

                Derek lets out a puff of air, silent laughter, which totally discredits his eye rolling. He’s on his elbows, staring down at Stiles, attempting to hold eye contact, though his gaze keeps flickering between Stiles, his mouth, and his fingers.

 

                Slight smirk on his face, Stiles pushes his face closer to Derek’s leg, close enough to kiss the warm skin there, to lazily trace the beginning letters with his tongue as he watches Derek’s pretty, darkened eyes flutter shut a couple times. “What do you say? A few around your words? Or,” he opens his mouth a little wider and gently presses his teeth in, mouth encircling two of the words, before he pulls back to talk again, still close enough that his breath ghosts against the saliva drying there. “I could _bite_ you, I could _claim_ –”

 

                This time, when Derek, elbows shaking beneath him, rolls his eyes, it’s not to mock. His groan is proof enough of that.

 

* * *

 

 

                As they step into the diner, bell ringing above them, a woman sitting in one of the booths across the room snaps to attention. She looks kind of familiar, in that way people do when they’re not someone that a person’s met before, but look like someone else. Stiles immediately knows that she’s the one they came here for.

 

                The first thing he really notices about Laura is her smirk. It grows as they step closer, slow, like she knows something they don’t, and he kind of understands why she was the last of the siblings he got to meet. The only make up she wears is a touch of mascara and a deep, distracting shade of red lipstick that would put one of Lydia’s own to shame. It suits her, however, but gives her even more of look like she’s dangerous – which is probably what she was going for. Like the rest of the Hale siblings, her hair is full of volume and looks soft to the touch, and her eyebrows speak more for her mood than her mouth or the rest of her body language does.

 

                She makes him think of some kind of predator – like a wolf among the sheep, trying to blend in before she devours him whole.

 

                He presses himself a little closer to Derek’s side, but makes sure that he damn well looks her straight in the eye. Looking away first would be a sign of weakness and if anything, he probably needs the upper hand here.

 

                “So,” starts Laura as they slide into the other side of the booth that she isn’t sitting in, smirk stretching around her teeth in a way Stiles can’t help but feel is trying to convey some unreadable threat, “Movies tend to lean one way or another, which means I have to ask: how hard are full moons, _really_?”

 

                That… was not at all what Stiles was expecting. Derek, blank-faced as ever, seems to feel otherwise.

 

                “Laura,” he greets, voice so steady it’s almost forceful. He wraps an arm around Stiles, who’s silent, still shocked from Laura’s surprise of a hello. “This is my soulmate, Stiles. Perfectly _human_ , soulmate Stiles.”

 

                Laura, who hasn’t looked away from Stiles since they got here, doesn’t even blink at Derek. Instead, she leans back, interlocking her fingers and stretching them into the air above her, leather jacket (which, does everyone in the family have one of those? Even Cora showed up in one the day Stiles met her too) moving up stiffly with the motion, as leather tends to do. “Does this mean you’re a furry? Because that means cousin Nelly owes me about sixty bucks.”

 

                Derek waves down a waitress before Stiles can get farther than opening his mouth to answer that.

 

* * *

 

 

                Of all things Stiles expected to receive in the form of a text message – especially of one from dear _Allison_ – the words _derek wants to bend you over the couch when he gets home btw_ were not on that list. Normally, that wouldn’t be that big of news – hey, he’s seen how Derek looks at him, he looks at Derek just the same way, plus sometimes they call during lunch and things get carried away… – but hearing it from his friend instead of the man himself kind of is.

 

                He can’t imagine what Allison expects in reply, so he doesn’t think much of giving her one that’s too well thought out. A simple _What?_ should convey both what he’s feeling (to a much lower degree) and what he needs to know (with option to branch out to ask to be specified, of course).

 

                He shouldn’t be, but he’s even more surprised when the reply comes back, _he texted scott_.

 

                This time he purposefully edits the autocapitalization on his phone for emphasis. _what_

_on accident_

 

                Ah. That explains so much. Why can’t Allison just lead with these things? Either way, this pretty much settles it; he’s changing his name in Derek’s phone to something like ‘baby’ or ‘bae’ (that one’s perfect, Derek will just _love_ it – he can see those scrunched ‘brows now). He doesn’t think Derek even knows anyone with a name that starts with B, aside from Boyd, but Derek – being Derek – has him listed as ‘V. Boyd’.

 

                Allison sends another text about how Scott’s being a big baby who can’t handle thinking about his best friend’s sex life, but Stiles only shakes his head. After all those years in college where Scott couldn’t understand the reason the acronym ‘TMI’ existed, Stiles can’t really string up the sympathy he would need to comfort him. Besides, Derek wanting to bend him over the couch? That’s pretty tame compared to the other stuff they’ve discussed over the phone, sometimes even in public and professional settings.

 

                Not even a whole minute later and Lydia (of course) sends him a text herself. He can hear it perfectly in her voice, as if she was sitting on the other side of his couch and judging him without even looking up from her phone. _I didn’t know Derek was an exhibitionist._

 

                He doesn’t even bother trying to correct her, because he knows that’s not all she has to say on the matter. Sure enough, the second text comes in, but he doesn’t bother reading it. She’s either making jokes about how Stiles could have warned them all, that it’s not consensual if they’re not in on the scene beforehand too, or wanting him to spill about how often they fuck outside of the house.

 

                When Allison sends him a picture message, likely a screenshot of Derek’s words, Stiles sends a quick message to Derek about how if he needs to call him, call the home phone, and then turns his ringer off.

 

* * *

 

 

                For the next four times that Scott comes over, he doesn’t sit on the couch. Stiles doesn’t bother telling him that they’ve done it on the floor where he sits in front of the TV, as well as two of their three barstools.

 

* * *

 

 

                Stiles would have always thought that meeting the family would easier for him than it would be for Derek. His father was a Sherriff, who saw the awful things people could do, sometimes even to their soulmates, and he was close friends with Melissa, so he knew first-hand what happened to her. Still, a little shovel talk and enough casual polishing to make sure Derek couldn’t look Stiles or his father in the eye was all it really turned out to be.

 

                Stiles didn’t get that lucky when meeting Derek’s family. Sure, there wasn’t much of a shovel talk (though, there was a lot of… odd behavior from the adults, and Laura still smiled like her teeth were her weapons and she needed to constantly have them out on display), but Stiles wasn’t expecting that anyway. At least, not in front of Derek, who tended to cut it down at the roots before anyone could get far in their threats.

 

                (Cora, wisely, had gotten a hold of Stiles’ number, invited him to a coffee date to get to know him some one on one, proceeded to explain just what would happen to him if Stiles fucked up, and then left him with the bill – where she had ordered the most expensive coffee, only not to drink a sip of it.)

 

                However, out of everything, this took the ‘Stiles was not expecting this’ cake.

 

                He was not expecting a little twelve year old boy, son of ‘cousin Nelly’, actually, to run up to him, hands behind his back, as he and Derek were walking up to the front steps of the Hale porch. Least of all, he didn’t expect this kid’s first words to him to be, “You’ve seen Community, right?”

 

                Before Derek could chastise him – which he was going to, judging on the way he tensed up, opening his mouth slowly – Stiles cut him off with an affirmative, “Sure? Why?” He knew kids could be weird sometimes, and with family they didn’t know, but knew they would soon know very well, some of the more extroverted kinds seemed to think the best thing to do was test them with the most awkward shit they could think of saying.

 

                “So, you’re like the Dean?” He asked, and Stiles frowned, glancing up at the house. One of the curtains twitched, as if it was being yanked shut. Was he being Punk’d?

 

                “Flamboyant and queer?”

 

                The boy gave him a grin that reminded Stiles too much of both Laura’s smirks and the looks that hit Derek’s eyes right before he jumped Stiles and tickled the living hell out of him. He had evil, dexterous fingers, and Stiles had a love-hate relationship with them.

 

                He shook his head. “A furry.”

 

                Oh, for fuck’s –

 

                Then, he was thrusting whatever was behind his back – oh, look at that. It’s a stuffed animal. In fact, it’s a Dalmatian, the very same kind of dog that the Dean always had a weird affixation for – into Stiles’ chest and bounding up the stairs, leaving the door gaping open behind him. Stiles took a deep breath in, didn’t bother plastering a smile to his face, tucked the dog into the crook of his arm, and looked up at his soulmate.

 

                As Derek turned to look back at him, he jerked his head at the house, dropping his voice to a taunting whisper, “Do you think I should tell them about your pack and the fact that since _you’re_ the _alpha_ , that they spend the full moon get togethers at your place?”

 

                “Don’t you fucking dare.”

 

                He gives Derek a kiss, short and sweet, but he doesn’t promise a goddamn thing.

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna check out [my tumblr](http://one-with-the-horse-senpai.tumblr.com/), it's a load of different stuff, but tw does tend to show up quite a bit.
> 
> this fandom is so kind and nice, and I just want to show how glad I am for the appreciation on the [last work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8441170), so thank you all.


End file.
